The last adieux were said, but the parting was less painful to Mercedes, with the new hope held out by Clarence of a probability of being reunited soon in San Francisco.
When Clarence and Mercedes arrived at their home they found that George and Lizzie had propped up Gabriel with pillows, and he was sitting up to receive his sister. From that day he began to improve slowly but perceptibly.
The letters from home spoke of Victoriano's marked improvement, but still his malady was not cured; so Clarence proposed that Doña Josefa, the two girls and Tano should come up immediately. She could then make up her mind whether she would like to make San Francisco her home, and the change of climate would perhaps do Victoriano good. The idea was highly approved by all, and that same evening Mercedes wrote to her mother, begging her to come and see whether she liked San Francisco for a home; that she and Clarence were going to Europe on a visit in the fall, and she wanted to leave her mamma and sisters and brothers all together; that George and Gabriel liked the plan of selling the rancho to Clarence very much, and wanted to talk to her and Tano about it. Thus Doña Josefa was enticed and persuaded to leave the home of her joys and sorrows, where she had lived for thirty years. Carlota and Rosario were willing to go, and Tano was most anxious to find a way of making a living, for he was every day more in love with Alice, but could not think of marrying her until he knew how he was going to support a family.
Doña Josefa, Carlota and Rosario, therefore, escorted by Victoriano, found themselves, on a bright morning, in the Southern Pacific Railroad cars, on their way from Los Angeles to San Francisco. There were only about a dozen persons besides themselves on the entire train.
“I wonder why they put on so many cars. One would carry all the passengers,” said Rosario.
“Half a car would be more than enough,” Carlota added.
“They must lose money running empty cars,” Tano observed. “I am glad of it. They were so anxious to leave San Diego out in the cold, I hope they will lose money with this road.”
“Don't wish that, it is unkind, unchristian, ungenerous,” said Doña Josefa, with a sigh.
“And why not? Didn't they kill our road, the Texas Pacific, to build this road? What consideration had they for us? I am glad that many years will pass before they will run crowded cars over this desert. They are old men, they won't live to see this, their pet road, with well-filled cars, running over it, and I bet on that,” said Tano, exultingly.
“Perhaps they will,” said Carlota.